


The House that Love Built

by livelovelaw



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, F/M, Modern AU, Reylo - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-29 19:38:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18300662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livelovelaw/pseuds/livelovelaw
Summary: Rey went from a Kenobi to almost a Solo. The operative word being “almost”.After ending a five-year relationship, with no contact and communication whatsoever to her ex-fiancé, she’s confronted with seeing Ben again to ultimately convince him to sell a house filled with memories that both of them used to cherish.





	The House that Love Built

Chapter 1: Deed of Absolute Sale

The posters appeared from the of the connecting steps of the subway, repetitively spanning all the way to the walls of the platform. Rey tried her best to avoid looking, irritatingly keeping her eyes to the front as she walked.

Despite the modernity, vibrancy and utmost beauty of the city, not in a million years Rey thought of coming back to Coruscant. Going back to the city brought pain, and with it came the memories that were best forgotten. There were things, events and especially people here; events she’d rather lock and shove behind her brain; connections that she chose to deliberately severe and bury without any remorse; bridges burnt, with no expectancy or hope that they will ever be rebuilt.

She curled her hands, fingers digging deep on her palms as her knuckles turned white. For some reason, gravity kept pulling her sight towards the huge poster. A hasty look dissolved her resolve, giving in to the temptation. Finally she glanced up, cocking her head to get a full view of the towering tarpaulin before her. The stolen glance immediately turned into a long begrudging stare. Her chest tightened in anger, brows furrowing in annoyance. She clicked her tongue and cursed herself for being weak. On her mind was one simple message addressed to the advertisement before her: Fuck you. 

She cocked her head back to the platform before her, deciding to walk once again. It is best to get this over and done with, she thought. The sooner she is out of this city, the better. 

—— ——

She fumed, drumming her fingers on her knees in impatience. It was customary to make an appointment, after all she was in a university. She too had been in college, and more often than not, professors indulge requests of consultation only for a specific time of day. If not, it was best to make an appointment, which Rey did not do, because why the hell would she?

Her stubbornness bit her back in the ass, for she sat for almost half an hour, waiting in vain for a turn to speak with Benjamin Solo, PhD, professor of the Arts in Coruscant University, a world renowned painter, dubbed as 21st century’s Leonardo da Vinci, and unfortunately, her ex-fiancé. 

Rey sighed, cursing in regret at the missed opportunity to bring liquor inside the university grounds. She would have drank through all the waiting and the anxiety of seeing him again, if only she wasn’t trying to be civil. 

She thought about it, hard and thorough, almost buying a bottle of vodka on the way to the esteemed institution. For all intents and purposes, she didn’t push through with it. She needed to be in control of the situation, and seeing him for the first time in five years with alcohol in her bloodstream might be detrimental. It might send one vase or an easel flying in the air, or she might ended up breaking maybe almost half of his brushes again. She was sober that time though, imagine what she would have done if she was drunk. Bottomline, sober or not, she did not want to make a fuss. There was no need to express her downright disappointment and anger to him anymore, she had no reason to. 

When the door of his office opened, Rey’s heart hammered in her chest. She told herself she didn’t like to wait, but when the opportune moment came when Ben was finally done with whomever he was meeting, Rey could not seem to control the anxious beating of her heart. 

Several men and a woman came out of his office, two in regular suits with earpieces in their ears. The other was a ginger head, wearing a long black trench coat. He was probably trying to be fashionable, seeing that it was practically summer. Next came a surprisingly tall, short haired blond woman —sexy, beautiful and classy. She was wearing a tight fitting bright yellow body hugging dress, the square neckline emphasizing her plump bosoms. It made her gulp, Rey has never seen someone gorgeous and classy as her. 

“We’ll be seeing you in the Empire Museum of Arts, Mr. Solo.” She said sweetly. 

A sharp clearing of throat reverberated through the room, one that Rey ultimately recognized the origin and the reason why it was there in the first place. It was Ben Solo who cleared his throat, and he only does it when he’s unsure of what to respond. He was probably cocking his head up and down, nodding mindlessly in assent or drifting his gaze shyly away. 

So awkward as always, Rey thought. A simple ‘okay’ would have sufficed. She smirked in amusement. Her smirk did not last long though. She caught it in an instant, stopping her lips from reaching the pinnacle of a sideway curl. She settled for a frown instead, eyebrows creasing down in irritation. 

Last from the egress of his office came an old man. Smaller by usual standards of men, yet he stood tall like he was the most powerful man in the world. He spoke, and from it came a voice of authority and dominance.

“The First Order is eternally grateful for your existence, Mr. Solo. You are one of the greatest artist that have ever stepped foot in this world. Sponsoring your art show brought us nothing more but pride.” The old man said. 

Rey blinked, baffled for a second. She remembered the posters that were hanging on the walls of the subway station. She was blinded by sudden anger when she saw his name on the tarpaulin that she did not place too much attention to the details surrounding the show. 

The Empire Museum of Arts is holding a special art exhibit, sponsored by the First Order Industries, entitled: After You, by Ben Solo.

Rey scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. Now that she remembers it, the large bolded prints that idiotically blocked an image behind it must have been one of his paintings set to be exhibited. She raked her brain on how to describe it, or how his painting looked in general, but she clearly lacked the skills from the creative department. Ben handled that part in their relationship and she was the voice of logic and rationality. He was the right brain and she was the left. 

She was the woman made of pure grit and determination; a shield maiden of the Norse old. That’s how Ben described her back in the day. Rey used to love how he depicted her through his eyes, and how he would express it through his passion for art. Not that it is important. None of it matters anymore. 

Anyhow, back to the collection of lines, colors, shapes and whatnot in the poster, Rey still couldn’t place what to make out of it. It was probably an abstract painting, or whatever. She didn’t know if she have to see an image there or anything. Well, it does look like a man and a woman hugging, but she didn’t want to speculate. And not like she cares for it. At all. 

“Freedom from a toxic relationship. How sentimental.” The old man finally said to his companions before he closed the door behind him. 

Rey cocked her head upwards that she hit her head on the wall. She gritted her teeth, well, thank you old man for explaining what that fucking painting is all about, she bickered in her head. 

Toxic relationship? That’s what his art show is all about? “After You”, meaning, after her? What the fuck, Ben Solo?

As soon as those important people reached the hallway, Rey stormed inside his office, slamming the door behind her. 

Ben pretty much jolted in shock, seeing that he had his back turned away from her. But he continued to be undisturbed, hurriedly fixing his things. He stacked a collection of papers, sliding it to his brief case. 

“Bazine, cancel all my appointments for the rest of the day, I need to pick up—“

Rey dragged a chair, slumping on it lazily before crossing her arms. “No Bazine here.” She said cutting him off. 

Rey could see Ben’s shoulder tense at the recognition of her voice. He cleared his throat, placing his hands to his side and away from his brief case; his tension palpable considering how he balled both his hands into a fist. 

He shrugged this time, facing her. “How are you?” He whispered, before straightening his already ironed out long sleeves. Sleeves that aren’t supposed to be straight at all, considering that she does all the chores in their house. 

Rey raised an eyebrow at the peculiarity of his clothing, but instantly brushed it off. Things change. It has been five years, Rey told herself. He is now some hot shot in the art world, maybe he can afford a house helper or something. 

It wasn’t really his clothing that made her bring her eyebrows to the heavens, it was the oddity of his greeting, like she was an old friend whom he missed terribly. 

“No need to be sentimental, Solo. I’m here for business.” She rolled her eyes before staring straight at his name plate, reading: Benjamin Organa-Solo, Professor. 

Rey heard him sigh heavily, sitting on his own office chair, that is by the way softer and looking more comfortable than this shit she was sitting in, creaking at his weight. He swivelled it for a moment, the ongoing sound reached her ears irritably. 

“I’m selling the house.” Rey said, disregarding the awful sound coming from the gears of his unlubricated office chair. He needed to replace that, stat. She thought in her head. 

Another sigh, heavy and disgruntled, came from his throat that it sounded more of a low growl of displeasure. “Is that all?” He asked, before he stood once more to grab his brief case. “No.” He supplied. 

Rey straightened her back in an instant, the chair beneath her slightly wobbling at the sudden movement. “No?” She gritted her teeth in irritation. 

“No.” Kylo mimicked her words, hands and his buttocks casually resting at the long desk cabinet behind him. 

“May I know the reason why?” She hissed, trying her best to keep her irritation at bay. 

He shrugged in response, and she snapped. “What use does an old, dilapidated house have to you?” She couldn’t keep her cool temperament anymore. 

Ben rolled his eyes, irritation starting to creep into his veins too. “It’s a stock room.”

Rey gawked in disbelief, standing. “A stock —“ She closed her mouth before she can say something nasty. Her hopes of convincing Ben to give his consent to sell a structure that they co-own would dwindle into nothing if she wouldn’t control her temper. More importantly, she kept her mouth shut because she didn’t know what to say next. She was completely distracted by the man before her. Rey had been talking to his nameplate for the longest time and haven’t got a good look of her ex-fiancé until the minute she stood. 

He looked good, better actually than she remembered. He looked stress-free and surprisingly younger considering he’s what, pushing thirty-four? 

“O-kay, how about this. If we sell the house, by law, half the proceeds will go to you. Ergo, you can buy your own stock room.” Rey argued, trying her best not to describe him further. He’s handsome, okay? He always has been, but she can’t be distracted by it. Rey scoffed in her brain, freedom from a toxic relationship does have a good effect on him. 

A small smile etched his thick, lovely lips followed by his long strong fingers brushing his (still) perfect, bouncy, (now) shoulder length hair. 

She unwittingly took a step back, his gesture rousing a familiar and sensual feeling in her chest. Rey always and unmistakably gets aroused every time he brushes his hair with his fingers. Not that he was trying to. He wasn’t, period. It was really just a habit — a fucking hot and sexy habit of his. 

“You already sound like a lawyer.” He whispered, guttural sounds emitting from his throat, which, for fuck’s sake, sent the little hairs on her nape standing stiff. “You are already in your what, fourth year?” He mumbled. 

Rey clicked her tongue, not bothering to ask how he knew such information. “I graduated this year.” She crossed her arms, antagonistically. 

“Oh.” Ben chewed on his lip awkwardly. “C-congratulations.” 

“Thank you.” She supplied sarcastically. “Now, about the house, I’ll use the proceeds to study for the bar.” She explained, calmly this time. “I need to resign from my part-time job and focus. Obviously, I’ll need money for that.”

“I’ll sponsor your study. There is no need to —“ Ben supplied. 

“Sponsor me?! Do you hear yourself? By what right, morally or legally, do you have the obligation to support me?” Rey cut him off. His choice of words sent Rey fuming. Ben had said something like this back then; that he would care for her, support her as she pursues her dreams; words that were almost put into vows, nearly etched at the back of their wedding bands — for better or worse, in sickness and in health, for... 

“God damn it, Ben!” His words brought out old wounds, wounds that she thought time have healed. “You left me, remember?” She bickered bitterly. 

Opening Pandora’s box didn’t sit fairly with her ex-fiancé, not really, for he too glared at her with those dark honey colored orbs that she used to love so much. “You asked me to leave, remember?” He mimicked her words once more, in a more sarcastic tone. 

“And you chose to leave any way.” Rey barked. “You know what, fuck it. And fuck you.” She roared before storming out his office.


End file.
